G.K. CHESTERTON

G.K. Chesterton was a renowned thinker of the early 20th century whose
broad education, apologetic skills and unrivaled good will we hope to see
reflected in our students. Learn more about Chesterton at the
American Chesterton Society
.

Who is this guy and why haven't I heard of him?

Dale Ahlquist | President The American Chesterton Society

I’ve heard the question more than once. It is asked by people who have just started to discover G.K. Chesterton. They have begun reading a Chesterton book, or perhaps have seen an issue of Gilbert! Magazine, or maybe they’ve only encountered a series of pithy quotations that marvelously articulate some forgotten bit of common sense. They ask the question with a mixture of wonder, gratitude and . . . resentment. They are amazed by what they have discovered. They are thankful to have discovered it. And they are almost angry that it has taken so long for them to make the discovery.

“Who is this guy. . .?”

Gilbert Keith Chesterton (1874-1936) cannot be summed up in one sentence.
Nor in one paragraph. In fact, in spite of the fine biographies that have
been written of him, he has never been captured between the covers of one
book. But rather than waiting to separate the goats from the sheep, let’s
just come right out and say it: G.K. Chesterton was the best writer of the
20th century. He said something about everything and he said it better than
anybody else. But he was no mere wordsmith. He was very good at expressing
himself, but more importantly, he had something very good to express. The
reason he was the greatest writer of the 20th century was because he was
also the greatest thinker of the 20th century.

Born in London, Chesterton was educated at St. Paul’s, but never went to
college. He went to art school. In 1900, he was asked to contribute a few
magazine articles on art criticism, and went on to become one of the most
prolific writers of all time. He wrote a hundred books, contributions to
200 more, hundreds of poems, including the epic Ballad of the White Horse, five plays, five novels, and some two
hundred short stories, including a popular series featuring the
priest-detective, Father Brown. In spite of his literary accomplishments,
he considered himself primarily a journalist. He wrote over 4000 newspaper
essays, including 30 years worth of weekly columns for theIllustrated London News, and 13 years of weekly columns for theDaily News. He also edited his own newspaper, G.K.’s Weekly. (To put it into perspective, four thousand essays
is the equivalent of writing an essay a day, every day, for 11 years. If
you’re not impressed, try it some time. But they have to be good essays –
all of them – as funny as they are serious, and as readable and rewarding a
century after you’ve written them.)

Chesterton was equally at ease with literary and social criticism, history,
politics, economics, philosophy, and theology. His style is unmistakable,
always marked by humility, consistency, paradox, wit, and wonder. His
writing remains as timely and as timeless today as when it first appeared,
even though much of it was published in throw away papers.

This man who composed such profound and perfect lines as “The Christian
ideal has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult and
left untried,” stood 6’4” and weighed about 300 pounds, usually had a cigar
in his mouth, and walked around wearing a cape and a crumpled hat, tiny
glasses pinched to the end of his nose, swordstick in hand, laughter
blowing through his moustache. And usually had no idea where or when his
next appointment was. He did much of his writing in train stations, since
he usually missed the train he was supposed to catch. In one famous
anecdote, he wired his wife, saying, “Am at Market Harborough. Where ought
I to be?” His faithful wife, Frances, attended to all the details of his
life, since he continually proved he had no way of doing it himself. She
was later assisted by a secretary, Dorothy Collins, who became the couple’s
surrogate daughter, and went on to become the writer’s literary executrix,
continuing to make his work available after his death.

This absent-minded, overgrown elf of a man, who laughed at his own jokes
and amused children at birthday parties by catching buns in his mouth, this
was the man who wrote a book called The Everlasting Man, which led
a young atheist named C.S. Lewis to become a Christian. This was the man
who wrote a novel called The Napoleon of Notting Hill, which
inspired Michael Collins to lead a movement for Irish Independence. This
was the man who wrote an essay in the Illustrated London News that
inspired Mohandas Gandhi to lead a movement to end British colonial rule in
India. This was a man who, when commissioned to write a book on St. Thomas
Aquinas, had his secretary check out a stack of books on St. Thomas from
the library, opened the top book on the stack, thumbed through it, closed
it, and proceeded to dictate a book on St. Thomas. Not just any book. The
renowned Thomistic scholar, Etienne Gilson, had this to say about it:

I consider it as being without possible comparison the best book ever written on St. Thomas. Nothing short of genius can account for such an achievement. Everybody will no doubt admit that it is a ‘clever’ book, but the few readers who have spent twenty or thirty years in studying St. Thomas. . . cannot fail to perceive that the so-called ‘wit’ of Chesterton has put their scholarship to shame. He has guessed all that which we had tried to demonstrate, and he has said all that which they were more or less clumsily attempting to express in academic formulas. Chesterton was one of the deepest thinkers who ever existed; he was deep because he was right; and he could not help being right; but he could not either help being modest and charitable, so he left it to those who could understand him to know that he was right, and deep; to the others, he apologized for being right, and he made up for being deep by being witty. That is all they can see of him.

Chesterton debated many of the celebrated intellectuals of his time: George
Bernard Shaw, H.G. Wells, Bertrand Russell, Clarence Darrow. According to
contemporary accounts, Chesterton usually emerged as the winner of these
contests, however, the world has immortalized his opponents and forgotten
Chesterton, and now we hear only one side of the argument, and we are
enduring the legacies of socialism, relativism, materialism, and
skepticism. Ironically, all of his opponents regarded Chesterton with the
greatest affection. And George Bernard Shaw said: “The world is not
thankful enough for Chesterton.”

T.S. Eliot said that Chesterton “deserves a permanent claim on our
loyalty.”

“. . . and why haven’t I heard of him?”

Why haven’t you heard of him?

There are three answers to this question:

1. I don’t know.2. You’ve been cheated.3. Chesterton is the most unjustly neglected writer of our time.
Perhaps it is proof that education is too important to be left to educators
and that publishing is too important to be left to publishers, but there is
no excuse why Chesterton is no longer taught in our schools and why his
writing is not more widely reprinted and especially included in college
anthologies. Well, there is an excuse. It seems that Chesterton is tough to
pigeonhole, and if a writer cannot be quickly consigned to a category, or
to one-word description, he risks falling through the cracks. Even if he
weighs three hundred pounds.But there is another problem. Modern thinkers
and commentators and critics have found it much more convenient to ignore
Chesterton rather than to engage him in an argument, because to argue with
Chesterton is to lose.

Chesterton argued eloquently against all the trends that eventually took
over the 20th century: materialism, scientific determinism, moral
relativism, and spineless agnosticism. He also argued against both
socialism and capitalism and showed why they have both been the enemies of
freedom and justice in modern society.

And what did he argue for? What was it he defended? He defended “the common
man” and common sense. He defended the poor. He defended the family. He
defended beauty. And he defended Christianity and the Catholic Faith. These
don’t play well in the classroom, in the media, or in the public arena. And
that is probably why he is neglected. The modern world prefers writers who
are snobs, who have exotic and bizarre ideas, who glorify decadence, who
scoff at Christianity, who deny the dignity of the poor, and who think
freedom means no responsibility.

But even though Chesterton is no longer taught in schools, you cannot
consider yourself educated until you have thoroughly read Chesterton. And
furthermore, thoroughly reading Chesterton is almost a complete education
in itself. Chesterton is indeed a teacher, and the best kind. He doesn’t
merely astonish you. He doesn’t just perform the wonder of making you
think. He goes beyond that. He makes you laugh.